The Werewolf, the Witch and the Wardrobe
by Septemberrains8
Summary: Why is Minerva McGonagall helping out Dolores Umbridge? All is not what it seems... RLMM COMPLETED
1. Ulterior Motives

This is a challenge fic for HMS Lycanthropic Feline at FictionAlley Park but I won't tell you the challenge details until the end so as not to spoil the plot! The deadline is Friday 18th so the rest of this will be up soon.  
  
For those of you that aren't familiar with what I write let me tell you this now: I am a firm Remus/Minerva shipper and have always taken Minerva as being in her 30s/40s rather than being 70. Obviously OOTP contradicts this but for the purposes of this fic I am choosing to ignore it. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Do not waste your time flaming me about age discrepancies.  
  
Porcelain readers: chapter eight is on the way and should be up in the next couple of weeks.  
  
Usual disclaimers apply.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The Werewolf, the Witch and the Wardrobe  
  
Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall marched swiftly along the third floor corridor, her emerald green robes billowing in her wake. This in itself was no unusual sight: the Head of Gryffindor House had always prided herself on her punctuality and never lingered longer than was strictly necessary. But lately there seemed to be an unnatural sharpness about her: the almost perpetual frown, the tension in her shoulders, the harsh tap of her heels as if she was trying to crush some invisible force of evil with every step she took. And no wonder. Minerva was a woman with iron-clad self control. Self control that was currently being stretched to the limit. As she rounded yet another corner her footsteps slowed and she took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm herself.   
  
In this part of the castle the late afternoon sunlight poured through the windows like molten syrup, sprawling lazily across walls, floors and cabinets. It glittered off Minerva's square framed spectacles. It also glittered off the newly installed bronze plaque that graced a nearby door.  
  
'Dolores Jane Umbridge', it read in flowing italics. Beneath that, in firm capitals so that noone could possibly underestimate the importance of the title, was engraved:  
  
'HEADMISTRESS'  
  
Careful now, Minerva thought. Stay calm. You can't afford to get this wrong.  
  
Wearing an expression of extreme distaste, she rapped sharply on the door.   
  
"Come in!"  
  
The voice was high pitched and girly but at the same time underwritten by a peculiar mixture of self righteousness and corruption. Minerva grimaced in disgust and reluctantly pushed the door open, averting her gaze as much as possible from the hideous décor of the Headmistress's office.  
  
Professor Umbridge was sat behind her desk, an oversized peacock quill clutched firmly in her pudgy hands. Her short but rather plump figure was currently encased in yet another set of brightly coloured robes: these were in rather dubious shades of turquoise and lavender and were topped off with the pink fluffy cardigan. A matching ribbon was tied in her curly hair. She smiled patronisingly at Minerva who tried hard to ignore it. Minerva's jet black mane was carefully pinned into its usual tight bun and looked as immaculate as ever. As far as she was concerned, hair ribbons were for children. It was beyond her how Dolores Umbridge - who was several years older than she - could possibly consider it to be a flattering look.   
  
"Dolores," she said crisply. "I've just had a report that Miss Johnson and one of the Weasley twins have been seen sneaking into the broom cupboard on the fifth floor."  
  
"Really?"   
  
Umbridge's eyes bulged with perverse excitement.  
  
No surprise there, Minerva thought. The Weasley twins had always been troublemakers and since Dumbledore's departure they'd done more to undermine Dolores' reign than any other student, including Harry Potter. Minerva was well aware that any possible reason to punish - or better still expel - them would be music to Dolores' ears. She already had their broomsticks chained prominantly to the wall behind her desk.  
  
"Yes," Minerva said aloud. "Apparently the Weasley boy was - and I quote - 'gazing lustfully' at Miss Johnson."  
  
"I see. Well, we certainly can't be having that."  
  
The Headmistress laid the homework parchments she was marking aside. As she did so a malicious smile grew on her face. She got to her feet, pausing for the briefest of moments to inspect her appearance in the mirror that hung on the wall beside her desk. Then, seemingly satisfied, she turned to leave the office. Just as she was about to depart a sudden suspicious frown crossed her flabby face.  
  
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked coldly. "You have been somewhat lacking in team spirit these past few weeks. Is there a reason for this sudden change of heart?"  
  
"We must ensure that the standards of discipline at Hogwarts are maintained," Minerva replied stiffly. "I understand that... cooperation is required if that is to be achieved."   
  
Umbridge gazed steadily at her for a moment and then nodded.   
  
"Well thank you for alerting me, Minerva," she said, now back to her usual sugary sweet tones. "I'm so glad you're finally starting to see things my way. Now perhaps you would show me where this broom cupboard is."  
  
And without further ado she pushed past Minerva and bustled out of the office.  
  
* * * * *  
  
To be continued... 


	2. Conspiracy?

Minerva followed impatiently as Dolores led the way upstairs. The older woman was obviously was not used to the vigorous exercise provided by being responsible for a castle full of hormonal teenagers. Nor did she know her way through the myriad of hidden portals and secret corridors that would have greatly speeded her passage through the school. Before long Dolores was looking distinctly red in the face and her footsteps slowed considerably.   
  
Even Andreas Aspartin never moves this slow, Minerva thought viciously. And he'll be ninety four next year. Surrepticiously she stole a glance at her watch. Only five minutes left...  
  
"Professor McGonagall!"  
  
They had only reached the fourth floor landing when they heard the shout. Hermione Granger was hurrying along the corridor towards them, her bushy brown hair flying in all directions. She was clearly distressed about something: her eyes were wide and her clothing dishevelled from running. Minerva stopped abruptly and stared at her with concern.  
  
"What is it, Miss Granger?"  
  
"It's Neville, Professor!" Hermione said breathlessly. "He was practicing his vanishing spell and it went a bit wrong. He's vanished the Fat Lady and we can't get the portrait hole to open!"  
  
Minerva frowned. Behind her Dolores was tutting impatiently, clearly unwilling to delay her investigation of the fifth floor broom cupboard. Minerva ignored her.  
  
"I see," she said. "Are there any students in the common room?"  
  
"Yes! But they can't get out either. And Ron's got detention with Professor Snape at seven!"  
  
Hermione was almost hysterical by now. She seemed unable to stand still, instead bouncing frantically from one foot to the other.   
  
"Calm down, Miss Granger!" Minerva snapped. "There is no need to wear a hole in the carpet, it's quite tatty enough already."   
  
The words came out more harshly than she had intended.   
  
"The Headmistress and I will come up straight away and see what can be done," she added a little more kindly.  
  
  
  
"Hem, Hem."  
  
Minerva turned, wearing what she fervently hoped was an expression of innocence.  
  
"Yes, Dolores?" she said sweetly, noting with amusement that the Headmistress seemed almost as anxious as Hermione.   
  
"If I might just interrupt a moment, Minerva. The students will have to wait. The matter we are presently dealing with is of much greater urgency."  
  
Clearly she was worried that this golden opportunity to catch the school's chief mischief makers was going to slip through her fingers.   
  
So far, so good.  
  
Composing her face into what she hoped was a serious expression, Minerva nodded.   
  
"Yes, of course. Unless..."  
  
She let the word dangle provocatively between them. Umbridge inclined her head and gestured impatiently for Minerva to continue.   
  
"I don't think Weasley should miss his detention. Perhaps I could see to the portrait hole myself?"  
  
Interest flickered in Dolores' piggy eyes. Minerva smiled inwardly as her quarry took the bait.  
  
"I'm sure you are more than capable of dealing with the, ah... broom cupboard situation without my assistance," she added, smiling sweetly.  
  
"I rather think that goes without saying," the Headmistress said pompously. "But since you mention it, that does seem to be a sensible suggestion. Where did you say this cupboard was?"  
  
"Just along from Filius Flitwick's office. Opposite the portrait of Jocunda Sykes."  
  
"Right. And do sort that girl out. The Minister may be visiting us later. I wouldn't want Gryffindor House to let the side down."  
  
Barely a minute later Minerva was smiling to herself as she hurried away down the corridor, having to chosen to ignore Umbridge's last remark. Dolores Umbridge's wand skills were less than legendary. It was no surprise that she'd been reluctant to go to the rescue of Longbottom herself, even without the temptation of catching Fred Weasley in the act. And now that she didn't have Minerva at her heels there would be nothing to stop that vile woman from inflicting the very worst punishment she could think of. No wonder she had been practically salivating as she continued her ascent of the marble staircase. Minerva shuddered.  
  
Patience, Minerva. Albus is doing his best.  
  
She did not stop until she was a safe distance from the staircase. Only then did she turn to the girl beside her. Hermione's posture had changed dramatically: once more she was her usual calm and confident self.   
  
"Was that all right, Professor?" she asked breathlessly, sneaking a surrepticious glance down the corridor to ensure no one was paying heed to their conversation.  
  
"That was outstanding, Miss Granger. I couldn't have done better myself. Thank you."  
  
Hermione smiled.  
  
"It's no trouble."  
  
They shared a brief grin, fellow conspirators united against the enemy. Then Minerva recalled her original mission and hastily swept off back in the direction of Dolores' office. 


	3. Arrival

A few minutes later Minerva was once again stood facing the entrance to the Defence Against the Dark Arts office. The corridor was suspiciously devoid of passing students, a testament to the harshness of Umbridge's regime. Nobody wanted to be caught anywhere near the Headmistress, particularly since the Niffler incident.  
  
Don't think I'm not aware of who was responsible for that, Lee Jordan.  
  
A swift tap of her wand took care of the lock and the smartly polished door swung silently open. Last year it had creaked noisily, part of the disguised Barty Crouch's intruder warning system. Dolores had since had the house elves oil the hinges. In fact, she'd had the house elves do just about everything. Like many traditional wizarding families, she frowned upon unnecessary use of magic for household tasks. She was also, Minerva had discovered, extremely lazy.   
  
Too lazy to set up proper protection spells, Minerva thought. Let's hope You Know Who doesn't decide to attack us in Albus' absence. We'll all be doomed.  
  
Minerva stepped inside, still with just a few seconds to spare. A strong, vaguely floral scent assualted her nostrils and she wrinkled her long nose in disgust. The Headmistress might have left the room but her perfume still lingered as loud and offensive as the garish plates affixed to the wall above the desk. Even during Gilderoy Lockhart's tenancy the room had never looked - or smelled - as bad as this. And he had at least had had decent taste in aftershave, even if he had used a little too much of it.  
  
For a short while she stared intently at the fireplace wondering whose face would soon appear. Albus had not said who he would be sending for this particular mission. She imagined he would chose someone familiar with the castle. That ruled out Sturgis and Hestia, both Beauxbatons graduates, and Mundungus who was, frankly, far too unreliable to be trusted with this anyway. Sirius couldn't risk being seen. Neither could the Ministry employees: Nymphadora, Kingsley and Arthur. Minerva guessed Alastor Moody would be the chosen one. That would certainly explain why Dumbledore had given this task to her and not impatient, intolerant Severus Snape.  
  
There was a sudden loud crackle and the fire flared up, it's flames suddenly turning a vivid shade of green. Minerva saw their brilliant hue reflected in her spectacles. As she watched the shape of a man's head rose almost eerily in the middle of the hearth.  
  
"Is it safe?" the apparition mouthed.  
  
Wordlessly she nodded. The fire roared even more loudly and a large dark shape emerged from it s centre. A moment later Remus Lupin was stood in front of her, smiling affably as he shook the ash from his travelling cloak.   
  
"Minerva," he acknowledged.  
  
She could not answer for a moment; surprise had taken control of her tongue. Patient, calm Lupin with his faded robes and sensible advice. She'd been trying to prepare herself for Moody's uncontrollable paranoia. Remus Lupin was a welcome relief. Thank you, Albus.  
  
She allowed him to kiss her chastely on the cheek but did not waste her breath on pointless niceties.  
  
"We don't have much time."  
  
Remus nodded but did not seem concerned. There was a half-smile on his face - was he pleased to see her? Certainly the brightly lit office - despite it's rather dubious choice of decoration - made a pleasant change from the cold, gloomy confines of Grimmauld Place which Minerva had visited regularly during the summer months. She suspected this was why Remus had agreed to this mission. This office had once been inhabited by him during happier, more peaceful times. They hadn't known that year that those times were coming to an end. Even when he'd resigned and she'd said goodbye to him with more reluctance than she cared to admit, she'd always thought he'd be back some day.   
  
Minerva, this is no time to reminisce.  
  
Quickly she led him from the office and down the hallway towards the marble staircase. Dumbledore's office was only one floor above them. If Umbridge had been safely secured in the broom cupboard as planned then Remus should have plenty of time to slip upstairs, collect what he'd been sent for and return to London.  
  
But it was not to be.  
  
As they stepped out onto the landing the unmistakable sound of heavy, ponderous footsteps could be heard descending the staircase above them, accompanied by strained breathing that suggested a trip to the hospital wing might well be imminent.   
  
"Downstairs!" Minerva hissed, grasping a rather bemused Remus Lupin by his sleeve and hauling him hastily down towards the entrance hall. Remus was doing his best to stifle his laughter, obviously entertained by the idea of playing cat and mouse around the castle corridors.   
  
Damn him, she thought. Why won't he take this seriously?  
  
"Who's there?" Dolores called loudly above them. "I demand that you show yourself!"  
  
The banisters creaked loudly. Minerva flattened herself against the wall and sprinted quickly down the last few stairs and along a short passageway towards the entrance to the staffroom. Her outstretched hand found the doorknob and fumbled it open just as Remus caught up with her, his eyes still sparkling with amusement. Together they dashed through the door and it slammed tightly shut behind them. 


	4. Accidents Happen

The staffroom was thankfully empty; though she knew none of her colleagues would intentionally betray Remus' presence it was easier and safer if they didn't know he was here. Minerva sighed with relief and collapsed into a faded blue velvet armchair.  
  
"There's only half an hour until dinner," she said once she had caught her breath. "We'll wait here till then."  
  
Remus was already fetching coffee from the ever-warm pot.   
  
"Won't she follow us?" he asked.  
  
Minerva shook her head.   
  
"No, she'll think it was a student."  
  
She joined him at the counter top and helped herself to her favourite: Valencia Sprout's homemade raspberry tea with just a smidgen of fresh cream. Beside her Remus was humming softly as he poured his coffee. He was looking slightly better than the last time she'd seen him, though his light brown hair was heavily suffused with grey. It seemed unfair to her that she, despite being several years his senior, had yet to gain a single grey hair. Although, she mused, she'd be lucky not to have any by the time this year was out.   
  
Hogwarts High Inquisitor indeed.  
  
Minerva snorted to herself and then noticed Remus watching her, an bewildered expression on his face.  
  
"What's so funny?"  
  
Cup in hand she sank back into the armchair and filled him in the goings on of the past few months. Looking back now, some of it seemed almost amusing. She would never have believed that one day she'd be turning a blind eye to the rule breaking antics of the Weasley twins and virtually encouraging Peeves to wreake havoc. So much had changed in such a short space of time. Remus listened with interest, his eyes growing wide as she told of the discovery of 'Dumbledore's Army' and Dumbledore's departure from the school. By the time she told him about the fireworks he was roaring with laughter.  
  
"Poor Molly. She'll have a heart attack if she finds out."  
  
"You mustn't tell her," Minerva said firmly. "You know I'm not one to condone that kind of behaviour but really they did a wonderful job."  
  
She took a long sip from her tea, savouring the full flavour of the raspberries. She had very few vices, save for her sweet tooth. Even that she rarely indulged, believing firmly in the benefits of a healthy diet and having absolutely no desire to have lost all her teeth by the time she was seventy. After the stress of today, however, she was making an exception.  
  
"So what are you here to collect?" she enquired politely.  
  
"I'm not sure exactly. Phineas has instructions from Dumbledore. He wants some readings off one or two of his instruments. I think there's some books too."  
  
"And the office will let you in?"  
  
"That's where I need you. Here-"  
  
He thrust his hand into the pocket of his cloak and produced a slightly battered piece of parchment which he passed to Minerva. On it were written two words: Sugar Quill.   
  
"The password..." she murmered.   
  
She felt strangely comforted just holding it her hands. Though it was barely a scrap it nevertheless stood as a reminder that Albus Dumbledore was still very much alive and fighting.  
  
Even if that horrible, patronising Umbridge woman has the gall to sit in your chair and call herself Headmistress.  
  
Minerva shifted her gaze over to where Remus was stood. He had finished his coffee and was humming again. In one hand he held an apple which he was idly tossing into the air and catching. She was glad to see him, isolated as she was from the rest of the Order. Only Snape remained at Hogwarts with her and he was hardly the warmest of souls. The best thing she could do - the only thing she could do - was to tolerate Dolores Umbridge as best she could until Albus returned. It had been a struggle at times. But the presence of Remus Lupin - however temporary - made her feel a little better.  
  
He seemed to sense her watching him and turned to smile at her, failing to notice the frayed edge of the rug he was about to trip over.   
  
"Look out!" she called in alarm.   
  
It was already too late. Remus leapt back quickly to stop himself from falling. His flailing arm knocked the apple from it's previous trajectory and it flew up into the air. Two pairs of eyes watched with growing horror as it arched almost gracefully above their heads before plunging back downwards... straight into the cup and saucer that sat in Minerva's lap.   
  
A fountain of hot red liquid splattered across the front of Minerva's blouse. She leapt hastily to her feet and the crockery smashed loudly on the floor, the noise ringing out loudly in the otherwise empty room.  
  
"I'm sorry," Remus said desperately. "I'm really sorry! Here, let me..."  
  
He pulled his wand from his pocket and used it first to magic the mess from the floor: shattered porcelain and sticky raspberry tea. Then he turned his attention to the deep crimson stain spreading rapidly across the front of her crisp white blouse.  
  
"No!"  
  
Minerva firmly pushed his wand aside.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked curiously.  
  
"I'd rather clean it myself. It's not the same if you use magic."  
  
Remus raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Minerva, it's exactly the same."  
  
"It's not to me," she said resolutely, folding her arms in defiance and then hastily unfolding them when she remembered what it was they were arguing about.   
  
"Turn round," she instructed.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Just turn round!"  
  
Obediantly he turned his back on her.   
  
Minerva unfastened her robes, slid them off her shoulders and draped them carefully over the back of a nearby armchair. Then she deftly unbuttoned the blouse, shivering as the cool air hit her skin. She could feel her cheeks growing red with embarassment. She was not used to changing in the presence of anyone, male or female, and she felt distinctly uncomfortable even though she knew her former colleague was not actually watching.  
  
He seemed to have read her mind.  
  
"I can assure you," he said, in slightly petulant tones, "that I am not quite so pathetic as to get aroused by the sight of women's underwear."  
  
Minerva ignored him.   
  
What am I going to do now? she wondered. She didn't dare leave the staffroom without a blouse - even with her robes back on she'd be revealing far more flesh than was appropriate for a school environment.   
  
"Remus..?"  
  
"I suppose you want my shirt now," he said gruffly, though there was an element of kindness in his voice.  
  
"That would be kind of you," she said, rather reluctantly.  
  
"All right... but first you have to let me see your underwear."  
  
"Remus!" Instinctively she folded her arms across her chest. "I thought you didn't get aroused by women's underwear!"  
  
"That was a lie. All men get aroused by women's underwear."  
  
He considered this for a moment as he unbuttoned his shirt, then amended it to: "well, most men."  
  
"Remus," she said through gritted teeth. "Just give me the damn shirt."  
  
"Say please."  
  
"Please!"  
  
"That's better."   
  
He thrust the bundle of fabric blindly behind his back and she took it gratefully.  
  
"I expect I can guess what you're wearing anyway," he said conversationally. "Gryffindor colours, maybe. Scarlet with gold lace. Or emerald green, perhaps. I know you like green."  
  
There was a palpatable silence behind him. Minerva shot him a glare that would have frozen lesser men in their tracks; too late she remembered that his back was turned.  
  
I was wrong. Moody would have been less trouble.  
  
Then she remembered that Moody wouldn't have needed to ask pernicious questions about her lingerie. He would already have been able to see it.  
  
She finished buttoning the shirt and dashed to the sink to soak her precious blouse before the stain set, steadfastly ignoring the man whose clothing she now wore. The same man who stood shirtless in front of her, a teasing smile on his face.  
  
"I've got it," he said smugly. "A tartan thong."  
  
He grinned triumphantly at her.   
  
Minerva flushed bright red, a mixture of annoyance and embarassment colouring her usually pale features.  
  
"If you think for one moment that I would even possess such a thing," she snapped irritably, "then you are sorely mistaken."  
  
Her patience was wearing thin now. She would not have tolerated such remarks from anyone else and she was beginning to wonder why she was making exceptions for a man she'd not seen in over a year.   
  
Remus seemed oblivious to her discomfort.  
  
"A pity," he said. "That was possibly my favourite teenage fantasy."  
  
Minerva whirled sharply to face him.  
  
"Remus, would you please just stop it! It's not exactly a barrel of laughs here at the moment, in case you've failed to notice. I'm under enough stress as it is without having to listen to personal remarks about my underwear, which I might point out is absolutely none of your business anyway! Honestly, you-"  
  
Her words caught in her throat. She was close to tears now and she knew if she started crying she'd never stop. Instead she turned away from him and tried hard to swallow back the lump in her throat.  
  
Not now.  
  
Remus was beside her in an instant, reaching his arms around her shaking shoulders. Minerva usually avoided physical contact, but right now she felt too vulnerable and exhausted to push him away. Instead she allowed him to embrace her, resting her head on his shoulder as he hugged her close.  
  
"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I'm an idiot. I didn't think. Sorry."  
  
Minerva took a deep breath. Suddenly she was acutely aware of the warmth of his naked upper body through the worn fabric of the shirt. She was starting to feel an answering heat in her own body that had nothing to do with rage, shame or hot tea, and everything to do with emotions of a rather different nature that had been far too long suppressed. Automatically she pressed a little closer, shifting her hips ever so slightly, then remembered where she was.   
  
You are far too old to be carrying on like a hormone crazed adolescent, she reminded herself. Behave yourself, for goodness sake.  
  
Quickly she slipped out of his grasp and went back to see to her blouse, avoiding his gaze all the while.  
  
"I think living with Sirius has been a bad influence on you," she said lightly.  
  
There was silence for a moment, presumably because of the sudden shift in gear.  
  
"Actually," Remus began. "It's more a case of-"  
  
A sudden rattle of the door interrupted their conversation.  
  
Umbridge! Minerva thought desperately. Now what are we going to do? 


	5. Intrusion

Minerva gazed frantically around the staff room. There was no cover that she could see: the wardrobe was too far for them too reach, the armchairs too small to hide them from view. Only the counter, jutting out at an angle from the wall, was a suitable prospect.  
  
Before she could even think about it she was flying toward Remus. She hit him hard, knocking him backward onto the carpet. Remus let out a yelp of protest and she felt her spectacles fly from her nose. But a moment later they landed safely - if heavily - behind the cupboards that filled the space between the counter top and the floor, just as the door creaked open and soft footsteps could be heard entering the room.   
  
Instantly she froze, hardly daring to breathe in case that was enough to betray their presence. With any luck Dolores would see that the room was empty and move on to search elsewhere.   
  
Umbridge's footsteps paused for a moment and then continued. Was she leaving? Minerva wasn't sure. And then she glanced across to the other side of the room and her heart sank. Her robes lay as she had left them: carelessly folded over the back of a nearby chair. Her fallen spectacles lay on the carpet just beneath. There was no way that the Headmistress would not see them.   
  
The floorboards creaked loudly, but not loudly enough to hide the sudden intake of breath from the other side of the counter. Sure enough, Minerva's carelessness had given the game away.  
  
How are we going to get out of this one?  
  
A well placed hex would have done the trick but her wand was out of reach, tucked snugly inside her robes.   
  
There's got to be a way...  
  
And then it was too late and a tall, black clad shape had rounded the edge of the counter and was towering over them, frowning curiously.   
  
It was not Dolores Umbridge.  
  
It was Severus Snape.  
  
The lank haired potions master had never been a more welcome sight. Minerva exhaled loudly in relief.   
  
Snape, however, did not look impressed. As comprehension of what he was seeing dawned, disgust became evident on his face.   
  
"Lupin," he sneered. "My apologies. I didn't realise you were on heat."  
  
Minerva opened her mouth to protest and then saw their predicament as it was through his eyes. Remus shirtless and looking extremely shocked. Her without robes and glasses and wearing a man's shirt... a shirt that was somewhat loose and was now - thanks to Snape's position - giving him a direct view of her cleavage. Hastily she covered herself up and scrambled to her feet.  
  
"It's not what you think," she muttered, cheeks aflame.  
  
He said nothing but merely raised a supercilious eyebrow.   
  
Remus, still slightly winded from where she had landed on top of him, rose casually to his feet as if there was nothing unusual about lying half-naked on the staff room floor with a dishevelled Deputy Headmistress. Ignoring Snape he helped himself to another mug of coffee.  
  
"More tea, Minerva?" he asked politely.  
  
She shook her head, going instead to retrieve her spectacles from the floor. Snape leant an elbow on the counter, obviously deriving great pleasure from her embarrassment.  
  
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Minerva," he said maliciously. "I'm sure we all get a little... frustrated... from time to time."  
  
"I thought you were Dolores," she snapped coldly, replacing her glasses on her nose and immediately turning the full force of her glare on her colleague.  
  
"Right," Snape drawled. "And that's why the two of you are half undressed, is it? Because you thought I was Dolores."  
  
"I don't have to answer to you."  
  
Minerva gathered her robes up and made to sweep past him in the direction of the door. Surely Dolores - the real Dolores - was gone by now. Severus was making her wand hand itch desperately. She longed to wipe the smug smile from his malevolent face but knew better than to resort to such childish antics. If only she could remain as calm and unconcerned as Remus, who was by now perusing the contents of the biscuit tin in search of an early supper. Instead she clenched her fists in anger and kept her mouth firmly shut.   
  
"I wouldn't go that way if I was you. Our esteemed Headmistress" - he spat the word with venom - "is on her way down here for a staff meeting."  
  
Minerva stopped abruptly.  
  
"No one said anything about a staff meeting to me," she said suspiciously.   
  
"Nor me. Obviously our presence isn't welcome. Which is exactly the reason I made sure that I was here first."  
  
Apparently tired of the conversation, he left the counter and went to sit down. The latest edition of the Daily Prophet lay folded on the coffee table and he snatched it up and flipped through its pages with a dark expression on his face. Minerva saw Cornelius Fudge smiling regally from the front page and grimaced.   
  
"Might I suggest the wardrobe?" Severus said dryly from behind the newspaper. "And this time take your clothes with you."   
  
His words spurred Minerva into action. Remus was grinning broadly at her, no doubt highly amused at the prospect of hiding in a cupboard with his former colleague. Severus was probably smirking too, though she couldn't see his face to be sure.  
  
Why does this have to happen to me?  
  
"Perhaps we could-" she began, but was interrupted by the murmur of voices and the scuffling of feet echoing along the corridor and through the still open door. There was no time to escape any other way: the wardrobe would have to do.   
  
"After you."   
  
Remus held the door open for her and she climbed in as quickly as she could. He joined her a moment later, pulling several cloaks down from the railing so that they would have something to sit on. Then the door swung shut and they were plunged into blackness. 


	6. Into The Fire

No sooner were they safely hidden than Remus drew out his wand.  
  
"Lumos!"  
  
Pale light filled the wardrobe. He muttered a few more words: a silencing charm on the doors.  
  
"Why did you that?" Minerva snapped irritably. "Now we can't hear they're saying!"  
  
"If we can hear what they're saying, then they might hear what we're saying."  
  
"Well, we won't talk. Whatever that woman has called this meeting for-"  
  
"Minerva," he interrupted calmly. "You're talking now."  
  
He settled back against the hard wood, stretching his long legs as much as he could. Then he smiled.  
  
"You really don't like her, do you?" he said.   
  
It wasn't really a question. Minerva stared at him, not quite sure what he was implying.  
  
"Don't worry. I can't stand her either. It's just nice to hear someone else feeling the same way. You know there's a lot of wizards who agree with what she did. The werewolf laws, I mean..."  
  
Remus trailed off. For the first time since he'd arrived, Minerva saw a hint of sadness in his eyes. Suddenly she felt almost guilty. Here she was complaining because she'd had to put up with Umbridge for the last six months when Remus had lived with prejudice and ignorance throughout his life. That year he'd spent at Hogwarts had probably been the only time he'd escaped it - and even then Severus Snape hadn't missed a single opportunity to twist the knife. The lesson on werewolves he'd given the third year students was probably the lowest he'd sunk to.   
  
Remus had told her about it one evening when they'd been sat working late. It had often been that way - just the two of them, both night owls, both preferring to work when the staffroom finally emptied and the castle lay silent and peaceful in the darkness. Sometimes she'd take her books to his office, or vice versa, and when they'd finished their allotted tasks they would share a glass of wine and talk late into the night.  
  
Except at full moon, of course...  
  
Several mornings she'd stumbled downstairs bleary eyed and tired. Her colleagues had immediately jumped to conclusions - the wrong conclusions as it had turned out. They'd never crossed that line from being friends to being... well, something more. There had never been even a hint of impropriety between the two of them. And then he'd gone and she'd been left alone once more. Had she wanted something more to happen? She hadn't dared think about it, knowing that even if she had it wouldn't have been appropriate.  
  
And did you ever want that? Do you ever get lonely? Perhaps you don't. I've seen the way Nymphadora looks at you...  
  
"Minerva, are you all right?"  
  
In the dim light she could see him looking at her with concern.  
  
"I'm fine," she said automatically. "Just a little tired, that's all."  
  
"Oh." Remus paused briefly then continued. "I thought of you when I heard about Dumbledore."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Of course. At least the rest of us have got each other to lean on. It must be hard for you being here by yourself."  
  
And who have you been leaning on?   
  
The thought shot into Minerva's mind before she could stop it and she wondered what on earth was the matter with her.  
  
"I'm not by myself," she said aloud. "Severus is here... and Filius, and Poppy and the rest. We're all still the same. Things are just a little... tense."  
  
"Still, you must miss your freedom."  
  
That at least was true. Her letters were no longer private, she was forbidden from talking to her students about anything other than their homework, she had to seek permission to leave the castle and she didn't even have the consolation of being able to look forward to Gryffindor beating Slytherin for the Quidditch Cup. Most of all she missed her friends: Albus, Arabella, Emmeline, Molly and Arthur... and Remus.  
  
I miss you...  
  
She looked up to see him studying her intently, an almost worried expression on his face. She realised in that moment that he really did care about her, just as she did him.   
  
As the tears started to prick her eyelids and she turned away he reached out to grasp her shoulders, using his thumbs to gently knead the knotted muscles of her back. Minerva stiffened in surprise then gave in to the welcome sensation of the massage, sighing softly as his fingers squeezed circles around her shoulder blades. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Before his arrival she'd been irritable and tense. Enduring the presence of Dolores Umbridge was enough stress without the added burden of having to chaperone one of the Order through the castle. Then a few minutes ago she'd been desperately, desperately sad. Now she wasn't sure what she was feeling. Warmth was starting to creep through her body and it wasn't just from being in the wardrobe. Suddenly she was very aware of her postion: trapped in a closet with a half naked and rather good looking man giving her a back rub.   
  
Good looking?  
  
She blushed, inwardly chastising herself for such an inappropriate thought. True, in her student days most of her friends would have given their wand arms to be in her present situation. But Minerva had always prided herself on being professional...   
  
"What must Severus think of us?" she wondered aloud.  
  
"Snape? I wouldn't worry about him. He's probably just jealous, anyway. He won't say anything."  
  
"I hope not," Minerva said, a little more sharply than she intended. "The last thing I need right now is people gossiping about us."  
  
"We haven't done anything for them to gossip about." Remus grinned. "Yet," he added provocatively.  
  
"Remus!"  
  
"Well I'd hate for people to be gossiping about me when I haven't had even so much as a kiss."  
  
"Remus," she protested, more quietly this time. Her cheeks were burning and she was sure they stood out like a beacon even in the dimly lit closet. She couldn't tell if he was serious or not, didn't know which she wanted, didn't know what she was going to do. He'd never teased her like this before. But then he'd never been shirtless in front of her before either.   
  
"Minerva, I swear you've blushed more in the last ten minutes than most people do in a lifetime."  
  
She glanced over at him and saw that the grin had faded from his expression. Now there was a look in his eyes she hadn't seen before. A look she couldn't place.  
  
"Can we change the subject please?" she protested vainly, hardly daring to look at him. His hands had left her shoulders now and rested lightly on her waist; testing, teasing.   
  
"One kiss and I'll drop it," he said.  
  
"Remus-"  
  
"One kiss," he murmered softly in her ear.  
  
The warmth of his breath against her neck set Minerva's pulse racing and she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of his aftershave. She felt powerless, unable to resist any longer.  
  
"Fine," she whispered, eyes still closed. "One kiss." 


	7. One Kiss Too Far

A moment later she felt his mouth brush softly against hers, teasing for a second then pressing closer. The kiss deepened, grew stronger, and sensation flooded Minerva's body. She'd been alone too long, had forgotten what it felt like to be kissed and touched and loved. The tension that had crept unnoticed into her muscles over the last few months suddenly dissipated. She moaned softly as his hands tangled in her hair, pulling it loose from the tight confines of her bun so that it tumbled to her shoulders in soft waves. Instinctively she sought the warmth of his body against hers and her arms slipped unbidden around his waist.

When she pulled away it was heavy reluctance. 

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked softly.

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

"Minerva?" he asked a moment later.

"Yes?"

"Are you _purring_?"

Minerva frowned and jabbed him sharply in the ribs. Typical Remus. Just when things were starting to get serious he couldn't resist a quip. And things _were_ starting to get serious. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this aroused. Certainly it hadn't been after just one kiss.

"Did you slip something into my tea?" she asked suspiciously.

Remus grinned. "No," he said loftily. "I'm just a very good kisser."

When she rolled her eyes he added more tenderly: "and I really like you."

__

You really like me?

What was that supposed to mean?

Minerva raised an eyebrow curiously.

"I really, really like you," Remus continued. "Probably too much, in fact."

She started to speak, to say that enough was enough, that they had gone too far and he needed to stop now before they did something awful that they'd both regret forever. 

__

But is that really what you want?

Of course it wasn't. Before she knew it he was kissing her again, his lips brushing over her cheek and along her jawbone until they found her mouth. His hands found their way to her neck, slipping beneath the collar of the shirt he'd lent her to gently squeeze and massage her shoulders. 

"Sorry," he murmered. "But you have this effect on me."

"Don't be sorry," she whispered, shifting her position so that she could face him properly. All trace of humour had left his hazel eyes. Now they gazed at her with nothing more than honest desire. Arousal surged through her veins: she could no longer resist him. 

"May I…?"

She nodded in silent acquiescence and he unbuttoned her shirt, revealing at last her underwear. The pale pink satin basque was a perfect fit, framing her surprisingly shapely curves and leaving very little to the imagination. The top was trimmed with delicate lace, the back was tied tightly with narrow ribbons.

As he traced his hands over the smooth fabric she felt a sudden pressure on her hip and twisted in his embrace to see a sheepish smile on his face.

"So my underwear does turn you on…" she whispered.

Remus traced a finger down from her neck, over her smooth ivory skin.

"You turn me on," he replied huskily. "Always you." 

She felt his hand slip below the hem of her skirt, then a warm erotic weight on her thigh as he fingered the tops of her stockings with obvious delight on his face. 

__

What were you expecting, Remus?, she wondered. _Sensible white cotton? _

She'd always had a passion for exotic underwear. It delighted her to have this secret, to know that those around her would see her in high necked, sensible robes and never guess at what lay beneath them. The bottom drawer of her dresser held satin and silk and lace in a myriad of rainbow hues: tasteful, well made lingerie. It made her feel more alive, more feminine in a job where she was expected to be strict and staid and even uptight but never desirable. And Remus' eyes – and body – were telling her she was having just the effect she'd wanted.

Giving up all pretence at self control she drew him close to kiss him, ready to surrender. Ready to let go. Ready to-

And then there was a sudden bang as the door of the wardrobe flew open. Bright light streamed in from the staff room. Hastily Minerva leapt back and Remus groaned again but this time with dismay rather than desire. Minerva blinked furiously against the sudden influx of light, struggling to see who it was that had interrupted them.

There did not seem to be anyone there.

Until Severus Snape cleared his throat loudly and she realised he was stood just behind the door.

"I have absolutely no desire to see – or even hear – what the two of you have been up to," he hissed. "But I would like to remind you, Minerva, that Lupin is here on the Order's business. Not, you may be surprised to learn, to cavort about with you in a closet but to retrieve urgent, vital information for Albus. Lupin, I strongly suggest you take advantage of the fact that the rest of the faculty are at dinner and retrieve that information immediately. And then leave."

His speech finished, Snape's footsteps receded rapidly and moments later the door slammed behind him and the two almost-lovers were alone once more.

"We'd better move," Minerva said reluctantly. "Severus is right, though I hate to admit it. We've got a lot to do."

"Yeah," Remus muttered. "Can we start with a cold shower?"

"It's for the best," she said softly. "You know it is."

"I know. I just wanted to be able to tell Sirius that I seduced the strict, serious Professor McGonagall in a wardrobe during a staff meeting."

Minerva punched his arm in mock anger even though she couldn't help but laugh. How could he have managed to turn her world so completely upside down in less than an hour and yet still be able to joke about it? If only she didn't have to say goodbye to him again so soon.

"It's a pity you have to go," she said sadly.

Remus smiled and kissed her forehead.

"Then maybe I should stay."

"You can't," she reminded him. "Dumbledore needs you back in London."

He gave her an unfathomable look.

"Of course. You're absolutely right, Professor McGonagall. Foolish of me to think otherwise."

They climbed out of the wardrobe and gathered the last of their clothing in thoughtful silence. Minerva felt like her head was spinning. Really it was lucky that Severus had interrupted them before they'd gone too far. Cheap, tawdry sex in a wardrobe was about as far from romance as you could possibly get and would certainly have been sufficient ammunition for Dolores to have her sacked. She'd nearly risked her job and her reputation for a brief moment of mindless gratification. And yet… 

__

I didn't want him to stop.

It struck her at that moment that something wasn't quite right.

And then she realised.

__

I'm not sorry.

When they'd emerged into the harsh, bright light of the common room, she'd felt no shame. She was a highly private person and normally would have been mortified at the mere thought of carrying on the way she had this evening. She should have been red faced and stuttering, apologising profusely to the man she'd behaved so lewdly in front of and begging him not to reveal what had happened to anyone else. Instead she waited in companionable silence as he pulled his travelling cloak back on and fastened it tightly to cover his naked chest. Instead of a barrier between them there was now a even stronger bond.

"Ready?" 

She hesitated briefly. Then her decision was made.

__

We're not colleagues any more.

Placing her hands on his shoulders she lifted her mouth to his and kissed him hard.

"I think Albus can wait until tomorrow, don't you?" she said.


	8. Forgive Me

The owl arrived the next morning, swooping low over the house tables with a superior grace. Minerva saw Dolores Umbridge frown suspiciously across the breakfast things and was glad she'd recently swapped her usual seat for one quite a way further along. The package landed safely in her lap and there was nothing Dolores could do. 

She opened the envelope first. It was addressed in handwriting she recognised as belonging to Remus Lupin and she was surprised by the sudden frisson of heat that spread through her veins. She hoped her blush was not too obvious to the rest of the Great Hall's occupants. 

After she and Remus had finally left the staffroom they'd escaped upstairs without further mishap. Remus had gathered the necessary information from Dumbledore's office and Phineas had been happy to pass it on to the Headmaster via the occupants of Grimmauld Place. Only the books were left and they could wait a few more hours… hours that had been spent in the safe haven of Minerva's chambers. 

Just the thought of it brought a smile to her lips, until she noticed Severus scowling at her and hastily composed herself. Remus had nudged her awake as soon as dawn broke so that he could say goodbye. She'd shared a few sleepy kisses with him and then he'd slipped away. She'd arrived at breakfast tired, hungry and happy. 

Truth be told, she hadn't been expecting to hear from him so soon. Curiously she unfolded his letter.

"Dear Minerva,

I hope this reaches you safely. I borrowed Mad Eye's owl – he's just as paranoid as Mad Eye and won't let anyone stop him. I'm almost hoping Umbridge tries because he'll probably peck both her eyes out!

Albus sends his gratitude and says that you are doing a sterling job in his absence (though I think he is a little concerned that there won't be a school left to come back to soon!).

I miss you more than I could ever say. I'm getting the Knight Bus to Hogsmeade tomorrow night. Meet me in the Shrieking Shack?

All my love,

Remus

PS. Forgive me, I couldn't resist.

Minerva read the last line and frowned in puzzlement. What couldn't Remus resist? Was this something Sirius had put him up to? 

She turned her attention to the package, carefully removing the brown paper wrapping to reveal a small white box labelled 'Madam Malkin's Extra Special Adult Range'. The last time she'd been to London she'd had her eye on a rather fetching set of underwear in sea green lace. Unfortunately events at Hogwarts had precluded her being able to return and purchase them. Perhaps Remus had seen them and guessed that was what she would like. Or perhaps he had chosen something different, something new that she hadn't seen.

But when she opened the box she realised exactly why he'd written 'Forgive me'.

Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was now the proud owner of one tartan thong.

* * * The End * * *

And the challenge conditions were:

From Juno:

Your fic may be of any length or rating, but must include the following:   
~R/M   
~shirtless!Remus   
~Minerva jumping Remus during some point of the story   
~Minerva wearing Remus' shirt during some point of the story   
~the use of the word 'lustworthy' (it was later agreed that 'lustfully' was also acceptable)  
~Umbridge must make an appearance   
~must include the line 'Are you _purring_?" 

And, courtesy of Trogdor:

~a tartan thong


End file.
